Large, childish letters spread across a bright pink card tucked into the covers. Loss. A child should never have to do it. Never should she have to say goodbye until she is grown.
A momma with tears, hugs and the heavy leaning. A momma should never have to do it. Never should she have to say goodbye. She should go first.
Silence. Dazed silence. Family leaning, lending balance when the earth has shifted.
The last moments to say goodbye, but it already happened really, but we didn’t know it.
Saying goodbye. If you can, say a prayer for Angel, his little one: and Shirley, his momma.
It doesn’t matter how old a boy has grown, he is still your baby, and a momma loves her boys you know. And a little girl needs her Daddy.
God has promised to be near to the broken hearted, and He never breaks his promises.